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“There's nothing here. Just pointless paperwork. If I hadn't seen your body with my own eyes, I'd swear you didn't exist!”
That's a bit rich. If the authorities have no record of me, does that mean I don't exist? That's a bit of a radical conclusion!
“Yes, of course, sir.”
A voice reaches us from the corridor. Someone's coming!
Believ slips behind a cupboard destined for the archives just in time. The coroner enters the room, still absorbed in his conversation.
“I understand, sir. It's just that it's unusual and against procedure,” he argues unconvincingly. “I wanted to make sure that... Absolutely... That's right. Although I only carried out a cursory examination, given the limited time available, I can confirm that the body was—shall we say—unaffected by death. In short, it didn't decay.”
Apparently uncomfortable with having to provide justifications, he balances from one foot to the other at the end of his phone, increasingly preoccupied with his caller's words.
“That's right,” he agrees. “That's right. Epidemiological research?” he asks. “I understand, sir. Thank you very much, sir.”
He hangs up the phone, puts it down in front of him, and leans against the desk, caught up in his reflection. Believ, only a few meters away, holds her breath for fear of being discovered. When he removes his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, I seize the opportunity to create a diversion, slip into one of the alcoves of the fridge, and concentrate on banging on the metal door. Against all odds, I manage not to pierce the wall, which shakes under my blows. Surprised by the thunderstorm resounding in his usually silent basement, the preoccupied coroner drops his glasses, which bounce on the floor without breaking. On all fours, he gropes for them, giving Believ time to slip into the corridor.
With her heart beating wildly, she climbs the stairs without looking back and rushes down the corridor. Overcome by emotion, and quite disoriented, she slips into the first bathroom she finds and vomits the contents of her stomach.
She's clearly not used to this kind of operation. While she's usually required to be discreet and curious, she's just thrown herself into the lion's den, only to realize that my body is more than ever lost in the wilderness, and this time we don't know where to look for it.
“Miss?”
The nosy agent!
“I'm here,” Believ tells him, her complexion livid, still kneeling in front of the toilet bowl.
While he would have sold his mother to add her to his amateur hunting roster, he now wears a disgusted expression.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asks her in spite of everything, compelled by the duty associated with being a policeman.
What kind of question is that? He can see she's in trouble, can't he?
“I... Yes, perfectly.” She smiles at him, one hand pressed against her belly.
What is she playing at?
“I'm pregnant. Morning sickness.” She thinks it's useful to point this out to the policeman, who's falling apart even further.
“Ah...”
Well done, partner!
“Could you help me up?”
Forced to do so, he offers her his arm, his gaze evasive, his stomach at the edge of his tense lips.
“I'm going to get some fresh air. It'll do me good,” she tells him, back in the corridor.
I'm about to join her when the coroner bursts into the corridor.
“Lock it down!”
“What's going on?" asks the teller, looking up from his screen.
“Someone has broken into the morgue.”
“What do you mean? Is something missing?”
